


Pain-Bearer: Deleted Scenes

by lilithiumwords



Series: All That Stands Between Us [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Deleted Scenes, Drinking, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Singing, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 18:32:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithiumwords/pseuds/lilithiumwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Within are scenes that were written for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/628384/chapters/1136041">Pain-Bearer</a>, but which never fit into the narrative, or just didn't suit the plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Party Tree (Chapter 17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo, Drogo, and Otho visit the Party Tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always had an image of the Party Tree surviving when all else had died, and Hobbits clinging to that hope, to the one place in the Shire that had held onto life -- their place of celebration, of love and happy times, and it had _survived_. It was always a place of gathering, but no longer of celebration and happiness -- no, now of mourning and grief, of desperate hope that there is still good in the world. 
> 
> This scene never worked well with [Chapter 17](http://archiveofourown.org/works/628384/chapters/1312411), where I wanted to put it, so I had to leave it out -- but here it is.

One early morning, a week after Bilbo had come home to his family, the Baggins boys rose very early and walked for several hours in the cool autumn weather. They were quiet as they walked, munching on apples that were almost too soft, and with each step, Bilbo grew more wary, more nervous, more anxious. His hands shook and he almost could not contain his horror, looking around at the dark landscape. But he walked, still, holding on tightly to a white wooden post in his hand, _Belladonna Baggins_ carefully written in bright blue ink. An old white lily, dried long ago from some wedding or birthday, was tied around his mother's name with yellow ribbon.

At the center of Hobbiton had long stood a tree in a field now yellowed and greyed, that had long been a place of celebration for the Shire's inhabitants, who had loved to throw parties that would attract every Hobbit around. The Party Tree was at the center of the Shire, and long had it withstood rambunctious galas, teas, weddings, and birthdays.

Still the Party Tree stood, among the blackened landscape, the only bit of color amongst the grey and brown of a land torn asunder. Leaves hung onto its long branches, the orange and brown of autumn, but they were limp and dark against the grey sky.

But the Party Tree stood, despite the scorch marks on its trunk, despite the broken branch that someone had once hung a swing on, despite the yellowed grasses at its roots. It had not died, and that gave every Hobbit in the Shire hope.

The Took ancestrial home was where Hobbits wrote the names of those who had fallen with the Shire. The Party Tree was where where Hobbits went to honor them.

Hundreds of thin white posts rose out of the ground around the Party Tree, with dried lilies, forget-me-nots, and chrysanthemums tied to them, loved ones' names painted onto the wood. Every lower branch had dozens of papers bound to them -- letters to the lost, carefully tied with ribbons of black silk, fluttering slightly in the wind. The names of every Hobbit who had died in Shirefall and of every Hobbit who had disappeared in the chaos were gathered around this Tree. Calling them home, giving their spirits a place to rest, when everything else was lost to the darkness of the world beyond.

The Party Tree was no longer a place of celebration.

Bilbo trembled as they walked toward the Tree, so long etched in his memories alongside fireworks, happy grins, and wild dances under the stars. He ached to see the desolate ground dotted with so many white posts. One of those posts had his father's name on it -- and another, clasped tightly in his hand, for his mother.

When they reached the Tree, Drogo and Otho silently led Bilbo to a small scattering of posts that faced Bag End, which Bilbo had not yet dared to look upon. Upon seeing his father's name in dark blue ink, posted amongst his aunts and uncles and cousins, Bilbo gave a cry and fell to his knees, clenching his fingers over his eyes as tears welled up.

He sobbed, and Drogo and Otho stood guard over him, their hands gripping his thin shoulders tightly.

Soon, though, his tears dried up, and Bilbo sat emptily, gripping the white post in his hand and watching the yellow daffodils, tied with white ribbon, shiver slightly in the cool morning air. He shivered with the flowers, and then he carefully set his mother's post into the ground beside his father's. He tried to set it perfectly straight, but no matter how he drove the post, it always leaned slightly toward his father's, and after a while Bilbo gave up, thinking it suited them. They had always leaned on each other in life -- why not in death as well?

He hoped that his mother rested peacefully. He hoped that his father's spirit would look after her.

"I miss you," he whispered, and the wind carried the words away.

Then he gathered himself and stood, allowing Drogo and Otho to lead him from the Tree, toward the round green door that sat atop a lonely hill.


	2. Erestor and Glorfindel (Chapter 26)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erestor's conversation with Glorfindel continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the long form of the scene in [Chapter 26](http://archiveofourown.org/works/628384/chapters/1780742) where Erestor and Glorfindel talk about Bilbo. I have very distinct headcanons about these two as a pairing, and I ended up writing more of this scene with them. It inevitably led to smut. Such things couldn't be in _Pain-Bearer_ , when I loathe putting in other couples' interactions when it does not pertain to the story, and especially since it had no larger meaning to the plot. But I wrote it anyway, having fallen in love with these two, and it counts as a deleted scene. <3
> 
> Explicit sex ahead.

A while later, Erestor sat on another balcony, writing in a half-empty book, though his pen strokes were languid and his dark gaze distracted. He had left Bilbo to enjoy his books, to many more expressions of gratitude and soft smiles, which pleased Erestor for reasons he could not explain. What was it about this Hobbit that attracted him so?

He was so lost in his thoughts that he did not notice he had company until broad hands slid over his shoulders and squeezed, and he startled and leaned back into warmth. "Elrond's guest is downstairs," was murmured into his ear in his native tongue, and Erestor twitched.

"I'm aware," he said stiffly in the same language, pulling away from his captor and closing his book, turning around to frown at his visitor.

Glorfindel smiled lazily at him, and Erestor debated his mood concerning the other Elf. Lately they had been on the edge of flirtation, but the very idea of Glorfindel turning his wicked wit on tiny Bilbo rankled Erestor.

"You haven't teased him, have you?" he asked suspiciously, and Glorfindel raised his eyebrows in question.

"When would I have had the chance? Why, does that worry you, my dear librarian?" Glorfindel asked, his sharp gaze catching Erestor's eyes, and the dark-haired Elf gave a short sigh.

"It is not a worry. I like him, Glorfindel, and if you offend him, I will have words with you," he said, turning back to his book with a small huff. After a moment of pointed silence, he felt the other end of the couch dip with Glorfindel's weight, and he looked up to see pale eyes watching him intently.

"What?" Erestor said irritably.

"Nothing," said Glorfindel mildly, still watching him closely. "You like this Halfling."

" _Hobbit_ ," Erestor snapped, not for the first time, and Glorfindel held up a hand.

"Hobbit, then. You like him?"

"He enjoys books as I do," Erestor explained shortly, and Glorfindel's mien softened with a smile.

"Ahhh, so that is why," the taller Elf said to himself. "Do not worry, my dear, for I will not tease him. Elrond likes him as well."

That bit of information made Erestor relax, and he watched Glorfindel with a half-lidded gaze. Glorfindel met his look with a sharp smile. "It would please me if you promised such," Erestor said quietly, and Glorfindel gave an elegant shrug.

"I will not bother the Hobbit. Did you know -- he has only been here a few days, and already he has two nicknames?"

Erestor shot him a look, his lips twitching downward. " _Naeggyl,_ " he murmured, thinking of the scars on Bilbo's hands and the way he held himself tightly.

Glorfindel nodded, shining hair falling over his shoulder. "Yes, and another: _balaphadro_. Curious, don't you think? For one such as he, to shoulder so much torment," Glorfindel said quietly, and Erestor shot him a bewildered look.

"One who follows the path of the Valar," he whispered, then nodded. If others saw what he saw, that brightness that shone in a being that would otherwise never know such light, then he agreed with the name. Not that he would ever say it to Bilbo's face -- he was happy with the honor of using Bilbo's given name. "How many have noticed?"

Glorfindel made a small noise, reclining back on his end of the couch and looking up at the sky. "Many have noticed, but the younger ones less so. Elrond was bewildered by the change in your Hobbit, as he did not shine so brightly yesterday. Perhaps he had a telling dream?" Glorfindel wondered, and Erestor followed his gaze to the clouds. They would likely never know what caused such light in Bilbo, and there was no reason to ask him, as the Hobbit would not understand.

"What do you know of his pain?" Erestor asked after a moment, and Glorfindel met his gaze, his usual jeer fading.

"He told his story to Elrond, and I was there to hear it. I will not repeat his tale, though I suggested that he write it down, and that he seek you for advice," Glorfindel said quietly, and Erestor was pleased that Glorfindel had set aside their usual differences for the Hobbit he wished to help.

"That is why you will not tease him, hm?" Erestor said slyly, and he enjoyed the way Glorfindel glared at him in response.

"I said I would not. Do you not believe me?"

He watched Glorfindel from under his eyelashes. "Such a promise would please me if it were true," he murmured, and he slowly closed his book again, setting it on the table beside him. Glorfindel's smile was sharp, and Erestor's eyes glittered.

"How must I prove it, my dear librarian?" Glorfindel coaxed, shifting closer to Erestor and resting one hand on the couch beside his hip. Erestor considered him for a moment, not accepting his invitation just yet. He could be cross with his lover later -- they were still on the edge of flirtation, and Erestor was not opposed to a distraction. He shifted his hip to press against Glorfindel's wrist and reached out to snag the edge of the other Elf's robe, pulling Glorfindel closer.

"Convince me that you are sincere," he said into the curve of Glorfindel's ear, and he did not need to wait before Glorfindel took his lips in a hard kiss. Erestor slid his hand up to Glorfindel's neck and forced him to gentle the kiss, and for a while there was nothing but soft sighs and the exchange of breath, tongue, and kisses that made his toes curl. Long fingers slipped into his robe, and he groaned.

"So needy," Glorfindel mused against his mouth, and Erestor felt another bite of irritation.

"Don't be crude," he retorted, biting down on Glorfindel's lip, and then the kiss turned hard again, at the same time that Glorfindel's hand twisted and his thumb slid over the slit of Erestor's sex.

He let Glorfindel stroke him for a while, knowing that if he kept his hands to the other Elf's fair hair and broad shoulders, it would drive the older Elf mad. Then Glorfindel made an annoyed grunt, and Erestor felt the vindiction of victory.

"Who is needy now?" Erestor murmured, and he laughed when Glorfindel broke the kiss to bite his shoulder.

"I will have you here," Glorfindel growled, and Erestor hissed as probing fingers drifted lower.

_"Yes."_

Erestor ended up straddling Glorfindel's lap, head thrown back as he pressed back onto Glorfindel's hard sex. His lover was taut beneath him, pale eyes wide as he stared up at Erestor in adoration, hands holding firmly to slim hips. Erestor enjoyed the attention, and he held Glorfindel's gaze as he bared down, until he was fully seated and Glorfindel was gripping him tightly enough to bruise.

"Have I convinced you yet?" Glorfindel said tightly, and he let out a groan when Erestor rolled his hips. The movement left Erestor breathless, but he was pleased when Glorfindel surged up and kissed him again.

"Keep trying," he whispered, and then he was lost to the slick movements, the promise in Glorfindel's gaze, the heat between them.

After they were both spent, they reclined on the couch together, watching the sun setting across the valley. Erestor played with Glorfindel's hair, weaving tiny braids he knew would drive Glorfindel to irritation later, and he let out a soft purr as his lover rubbed that large hand across his back.

"Hm, looks like the Halfling is finally leaving," Glorfindel muttered, and Erestor's eyes widened. He sat up and fled to the edge of the balcony, his robe fluttering around him, to see Bilbo's blond curls disappearing into the library proper. Something burned in his gut, and he turned to level a baleful glare on Glorfindel.

Pale eyes glittered with vengeful glee, and that mouth he had enjoyed kissing until bruised twisted with a smirk. "I might have lied," Glorfindel said lightly, and Erestor could only feel wrath.

_"Glorfindel!"_


	3. Bilbo's Song (Chapter 27)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo enjoys the effects of springwine in Rivendell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eaivalefay all but demanded that this be an extra scene of [Chapter 27](http://archiveofourown.org/works/628384/chapters/1904088), and how could I resist? It doesn't fit in with the story, but it's fun all the same, and surely there will be hints of it in future chapters. ;D 
> 
> _The Man in the Moon Stayed Up Too Late_ belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.

When Bilbo strode into the Hall of Fire that evening, Rory sat up in shock to see the flush on his cousin's cheeks and the sway in his gait.

"Bilbo! Are you _drunk_?" he called, and Bilbo beamed at him in a way he had not seen since they were children. Beside him, Drogo and Otho stared, as shocked as he was by the changes in their cousin.

"Oh, of course not! I just tried some wine that Lord Elrond had. It was delicious!" Bilbo sang as he joined his cousins at their table, and Rory stared at him, dumbfounded. _Lord Elrond_ had gotten his cousin drunk? And with _Elvish wine_ of all things -- how lucky Bilbo was!

"Couldn't we try some too?" he said, casting his voice further into the hall where the Elves who set out the platters of food could hear. The two Elves who had taken to serving their table at every meal, Meril and Rhui, smiled brightly as they approached with a tray.

"Of course, Master Rory!" Meril said, and Rory beamed at her while Bilbo looked disconcerted for a moment.

"We shouldn't impose, should we?" his cousin wondered, and Rory snorted.

"You seem to have imposed yourself to quite a lot. How could I go back to my sisters and brothers without a tale of Elvish wine? Come on, Bilbo, I've always wanted to try it," he pleaded, twisting his voice to be sweet, and Bilbo looked down at him with misty eyes.

"I suppose it would be alright --" Bilbo started, but Rhui had already bounded away with a cry of, "I'll fetch some from the cellar!"

Rory sat back smugly as Bilbo turned his attention to dinner, and Otho and Drogo looked at him with wide eyes, amazed at the easy manipulation of their cousin.

"How did you do that?" Otho whispered, and Rory winked at him.

"Bilbo can't resist sad Hobbit eyes," was all he said, and then Rhui was back with a pretty glass decanter and small crystal cups. Rory noticed that other tables around them, Elves began to receive bottles and decanters as well, and he grinned, thinking tonight would be fun indeed. He watched as Bilbo picked up a cup and sipped it with a sigh, briefly wondering if this was a good idea if Bilbo had already had much to drink -- but it was a relief to see Bilbo relaxed like this.

Dinner progressed with gaeity, fueled by sweet wine and good spirits by all. They still had one more day in Rivendell, but Rory thought that this was a lovely feast to send them off, and he savored every glass of wine he tried, making sure to share it with Drogo and Otho, who quickly became enamoured with the new drink. Bilbo was a sight to behold, with flushed cheeks and a cheerful grin that reminded Rory of light-hearted days in their youth. Drogo and Otho were hilarious in their attempts to look as refined in their drinking as Rory and Bilbo did. Foolish tweens -- they were much too young to be as good at this as Rory, or as perfect as Bilbo was.

Bofur was scornful of the wine, but he took to the cups readily enough, and soon he and Bilbo were in a loud debate on the merits of Dwarvish ale versus Elvish wine -- though Rory insisted firmly that none could compare to the Green Dragon's house barrels!

Nothing of the night was as amazing, though, as when Bilbo climbed up on a chair and announced to the room, "I am going to sing a song!"

Shy Bilbo, who had to be dared to sing at family birthday parties! Sweet Bilbo, who wrote lovely poems and hid himself away in the library! Prickly and snappish Bilbo, who glared if someone attempted to pry him out of his comfortable chair! And he was going to sing?

"Sing us a song, Bilbo!" Rory cried, and Drogo and Otho quickly echoed his cheer.

The Elves called out encouragement, and the flush on Bilbo's cheeks was bright in the firelight, but Bilbo's voice was clear as he sang out,

> "There is an inn, a merry old inn  
>  beneath an old grey hill,  
>  And there they brew a beer so brown  
>  That the Man in the Moon himself came down  
>  One night to drink his fill!
> 
> The ostler has a tipsy cat  
>  that plays a five-stringed fiddle;  
>  And up and down he runs his bow,  
>  Now squeaking high, now purring low,  
>  Now sawing in the middle.  
>  The landlord keeps a little dog  
>  that is mighty fond of jokes;  
>  When there's good cheer among the guests,  
>  He cocks an ear at all the jests  
>  And laughs until he chokes!"

And Rory fell over laughing as Bilbo sang the silliest song he had ever heard, new lyrics to an old tune that was beyond ridiculous. Otho clapped along, and Drogo began to sing with the tune, not quite knowing the lyrics but eager to echo Bilbo's voice. Bofur laughed and cheered for him, and the Elves around them smiled widely at their antics.

> "The landlord keeps a little dog  
>  that is mighty fond of jokes;  
>  When there's good cheer among the guests,  
>  He cocks an ear at all the jests  
>  And laughs until he chokes.
> 
> They also keep a hornéd cow  
>  as proud as any queen;  
>  But music turns her head like ale,  
>  And makes her wave her tufted tail  
>  and dance upon the green.
> 
> And O! the rows of silver dishes  
>  and the store of silver spoons!  
>  For Sunday there's a special pair,  
>  And these they polish up with care  
>  on Saturday afternoons.
> 
> The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,  
>  and the cat began to wail;  
>  A dish and a spoon on the table danced,  
>  The cow in the garden madly pranced,  
>  and the little dog chased his tail.
> 
> The Man in the Moon took another mug,  
>  and then rolled beneath his chair;  
>  And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,  
>  Till in the sky the stars were pale,  
>  and dawn was in the air.
> 
> Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:  
>  'The white horses of the Moon,  
>  They neigh and champ their silver bits;  
>  But their master's been and drowned his wits,  
>  and the Sun'll be rising soon!'
> 
> So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,  
>  a jig that would wake the dead:  
>  He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,  
>  While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:  
>  'It's after three!' he said.
> 
> They rolled the Man slowly up the hill  
>  and bundled him into the Moon,  
>  While his horses galloped up in rear,  
>  And the cow came capering like a deer,  
>  and a dish ran up with the spoon.
> 
> Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;  
>  the dog began to roar,  
>  The cow and the horses stood on their heads;  
>  The guests all bounded from their beds  
>  and danced upon the floor.
> 
> With a ping and a pong the fiddle-strings broke!  
>  the cow jumped over the Moon,  
>  And the little dog laughed to see such fun,  
>  And the Saturday dish went off at a run  
>  with the silver Sunday spoon.  
> 
> 
> The round Moon rolled behind the hill  
>  as the Sun raised up her head.  
>  She hardly believed her fiery eyes;  
>  For though it was day, to her surprise  
>  they all went back to bed!"

Bilbo all but shouted the last line, and the Elves roared with cheer in response. Rory was laughing so hard that he fell sideways into Bilbo's chair, and it tipped, causing Bilbo to tumble. Rory shouted in surprise, but Bofur was quick to catch Bilbo, grabbing his cousin by the waist as they sprawled together on the ground. 

Everyone blinked at each other for a moment, and then Bilbo started giggling, and then they were all laughing, spirits high with happiness. Then an Elf stood and began to sing, and the night wore on, revelry and joy drifting from the Hall of Fire on the wind.


	4. "Stone" (Chapter 26)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A selection of Dwarven poetry focused on the study of romance and sexual love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had promised my tumblr followers that I would put dwarf smut into Chapter 26, and all along I had translated 'dwarf smut' to 'smutty dwarf poetry.' Eaivalefay and I ended up writing more than what was put into the chapter. Here are some of the extra poems from the book of poetry Bilbo read in [Chapter 26](http://archiveofourown.org/works/628384/chapters/1780742), _Stone_.

**As She Waits**

> The chisel and the stone together wrought crystal blue.  
>  Upon her brow it rests, bright and true  
>  For all to gaze upon her beauty.  
>  Lo! come the desperate boys, needy for her slightest whim --  
>  But stone has wrought the mark of him  
>  Upon her brow for all to see.
> 
> They grind their axes, aye, and hoist them high  
>  But her gaze is fixed afar, on the sky  
>  Of stone that covers them, holds them, keeps her safe.  
>  As she waits for his return, they cluster 'round --  
>  Those boys with beads and gems by the pound.  
>  Still she waits, still she waits until she chafes.
> 
> Those boys, they heft their tools and saunter 'bout;  
>  Those hammers, those shafts of length and stout,  
>  Teeming with boyish passions -- for her they cry  
>  While thick tears seep from each their eyes:  
>  "Look here! Look here! Our manhoods weep  
>  Look here! Give us just a little peep!"  
>  Her gaze aloft, she lifts her skirts --  
>  And the boys, oh! How joyous they flirt  
>  While she waits for him, wearing high that crystal blue.

~~~

**Limericks**

> Pinch the beard above  
>  Tickle the beard below,  
>  Stoke the forge bright  
>  And bury iron in the coal!

~

> Temper the iron rod,  
>  Before the wife comes through,  
>  Or you'll find the gems  
>  Gone from ruby red to blue.


End file.
